


Under A Paper Moon

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Deathfic, M/M, Sorry Not Sorry, all I ever write is angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 19:01:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5977743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He still remembers Alexander's arms around him, the stars and moon hanging heavy in the sky, the only light in garden. It was terrifying, that feeling. That they could be arrested, killed, anything. Just for touching like this. But that doesn't feel real right now, with the music drifting out from the party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under A Paper Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my wonderful beta, Acanaceous. She made sure this made sense even after it made her cry

He knows what's happening, as soon as he feels blood seeping around the hand he's holding to his stomach. But it doesn't matter. He can ignore the pain, and the sounds of guns and all of these distractions.

Because he still has Alexander.

He still remembers Alexander's arms around him, the stars and moon hanging heavy in the sky, the only light in garden. It was terrifying, that feeling. That they could be arrested, killed, anything. Just for touching like this. But that doesn't feel real right now, with the music drifting out from the party.  
They were the only ones who mattered, the only things with beating hearts and soft breathes echoing gently in his ears. If he could, John would stay in this moment forever. He can still remember the feeling of Alexander's pulse under John's, the way Alexander's hands were clutching the back of John's jacket. He remembers Alexander's soft voice whispering sweet nothings into John's ear. All of these things keep him going, pushing through the horror of this brutal war. There are things he doesn't even allow himself to think about, like how Alexander's skin feels against his. He forces himself to forget how it feels to press his lips against the other man's pulse, and the way Alexander looks with early morning light spilling over his sleeping face. He doesn't dare remember how Alexander felt against him, that night of the party, or how they fit together so perfectly, chest to chest, lips to lips.

He allows all of these things to flood his mind now, let them push out the pain, and lets go. He disappears into these memories, letting go of the sound of his heartbeat, and only wondering if he can remember Alexander's eyes right. He can still see them, illuminated by the stars that hover over the gardens. He can't feel anything now, except Alexander's hand on his face, ghostly and cold.

He should be worried, but all he can feel is that terrible swooping deep in his stomach that he doesn't dare call love. But he know's that's what this is. He may not see Alexander, his Alexander, ever again, but that's alright. He still has that night, and Alexander's eyes, his own love for John shining through. He still has Alexander, even as he lets go of everything else, letting the darkness at the edge of his vision close in.


End file.
